Broken Accords
by cariadglynnis
Summary: A completely original story written by 3 friends in 3 perspectives. All the shadow world goodness but in Seattle! Fey, Psyche, and Scarlet are on to a group of rule breaking Shadowhunters but discover they are more involved than they know or would like to be. An adventure of friendship, social injustice, and magic. Its really good, trust me... just check it out!
1. Chapter 1

_Authors Note_

_Hi, my name is Cariadglynnis, and my friends (Wanderlust100 and sc858) and I decided one day that we wanted to write a story about a group of downworlders dealing with the continual struggle of discrimination and social darwinism. It is completely our own, except we are using Cassandra Clare's world of Shadowhunters and Downworlders. If you have read her books everything will make a lot more sense. _

_Anyways we are all writing this, one chapter per person, rotating perspectives. Just so you know. _

_There will be_

_Psyche: Cariadglynnis_

_Fey: Wanderlust100_

_Scarlet: sc858_

_We hope you like it, follow, like, and especially review! Thanks!_

_p.s _

_we have all made polyvore accounts for this so you can check it out to see outfits and other stuff_

The sun was setting in the west, turning the sky into a fantasia of colour. It glowed deep red and flaming orange, casting strange and magnificent shadows on the earth below. A brisk wind danced through the streets, the temperature dropping quickly in preparation for nightfall. Despite the chill in the air, everything seemed to have a warm glow to it. Twilight was my favourite time of day for exactly these reasons. The ordinary world became a wonderwall of magic and illusion, if only for a short while.

I got one last glimpse at the sun as I climbed the steps of a townhouse in downtown Seattle before I knocked on the heavy metal door. I could feel the bass from the song being currently play vibrating in my chest and sighed inwardly. Malachi enjoyed having parties and despite their regularity, he always got carried away. They usually ended in brawls or some sort of law infraction. His parties were well known throughout the city and only the best of the best were invited. The old warlock chose his company carefully. Carefully choosing to spend his time with the dangerous and rogue downworlders. Like me, for example.

When the door opened, a stream of music poured out. It was fast and frantic, inside the open space was filled with bodies dancing and grinding along to the beat. I pushed my way in, not acknowledging whoever opened the door for me. Purposefully sidestepping the dance floor, I made my way over to where I knew Malachi would be.

Several people recognized me, and tried to pull me on the dance floor or offered to get me a drink, but I had to stay focused. Tonight was strictly for business. I kept my head down as I passed through the kitchen and slipped behind the drapes and up the secret staircase. If anyone found out about the hidden passageway to the upstairs where Malachi spent the majority of his time, he would be furious. And if he found out it was me who gave it away, he would be furious and have a dead body.

When I closed the door behind me, I waited at the bottom for a few moments to make sure no one had followed me. When I was sure I was alone, I continued. Malachi spent most of parties upstairs with a few select people, doing various activities. I was showed the third floor because Malachi has a 'thing' for Young Bloods. And what's better than a dangerous Young Blood with extraordinary power.

Unfortunately for him, the hooking up with an extraordinarily powerful warlock didn't work out as well as he planned. When he tried to make a move, I sort of panicked and ran out, leaving him paralyzed within a spell. His ego was damaged slightly, but he wasn't too angry and I received an invitation to his next gathering. I think he keeps me around because he's got the hots for me- scratch that, I know he does. He told me so himself.

Don't get the wrong idea though, I'm not all that pretty. But with downworlders, it's not a matter of beauty. Its power they like. And I've got plenty of that.

The air was thicker at the top of the stairs. When I opened the door, I walked into a haze of smoke and there was the sickly sweet smell of opium. It was a useless drug that would waste you away. Curling patterns of smoke led me to where I would find Malachi and his special guests.

They were at the end of the hall in the master bedroom. I entered to find five altogether, sitting in a cloud of smoke. On the bed, with an arm draped over a vampire girl and a pipe in the other, was Malachi. He hadn't changed at all since the last time I'd seen him. Well obviously, he hadn't changed, I mean he's immortal. But he was in the same place as when I left his last party a few months ago. Except with a different girl. The pig.

When he saw me, his eyes lit up. They were brighter than usual due to the drug, and there was an odd airiness to him. He wore a filthy smirk as he came over to greet me.

"Psyche," he snaked his arm around my waist.

"Malachi," I said as I curtly removed his hand. "A pleasure as always."

He threw his head back as he laughed, like a pretty boy who knew that he was beautiful. Truth of the matter was Malachi was alright looking-nothing special but he was _old._ He only looked twenty five but he must have been close to three hundred. But he was powerful and had connections. So even thought he was a prick, I stuck around. He was a good ally to have and I liked the people he would introduce me to.

"I didn't know you would be joining us. Here," he said offering me his pipe.

"No thanks. I'm here on business. You have something I need."

"You?" he grinned. "Last time I checked you've never worked for anyone. Not that you need to."

"I've had occasional costumers." I replied coolly. "Powerful ones. I like to stay in a positive light in their eyes. When the time comes, they will remember me."

"Oh you needn't worry about that. I'm sure everyone will remember you already." It sounded almost as if he were jealous.

I stifled a laugh at Malachi's petty emotion. For one so old, he was so foolish. As if there was any reason to be jealous of me. I was one of the most hated downworlders in Seattle. The only way I stayed alive was through pure power and natural talent. But there's a down side to power. Ancient warlocks cannot measure to the ability I have which creates quite a few enemies.

"So are you going to help me or not?" I slipped out of his grip and walked over to the vanity. I picked up a small box and turned it over in my fingers. It looked exotic and expensive. "I don't have forever." I said as slipped the box into my pocket unnoticed.

I actually did have forever, being immortal and all, but I found the mundane saying to be quite funny and used it frequently. Malachi rolled his eyes. "What can I do for you Psyche?"

"I need Yewaugh leaves."

"That makes a very powerful drug, you know."

"That's one use for it I suppose," I replied.

Malachi grumbled something about Young Bloods and left to retrieve the Yewaugh for me. I turned around and was startled by the four pairs of expectant eyes meeting mine. Malachi's guests had been so silent I almost forgot they were there.

One of them cleared their throat and I just smiled, unsure what to say.

"So you're the famous Psyche," one of them said from across the room. I glanced at the man who spoke. He was barely a man, appearing no older than me, but it was impossible to tell his true age. He looked at me with a mixture of curiosity and distain.

"Yes, and you are..?"

"Jules Alabaster of Nevada." I rolled my eyes at his formality. "You're not quite as I expected."

I cocked my head to a side. "And what exactly did you expect Mr. Alabaster?"

"Is it true that you brought the destruction of Casimir's clan as a child?" The vampire on the bed piped up.

"Yes." I said still looking at Jules. He remained silent and we fell into an awkward silence.

We all stayed like that for a few moments before another vampire girl sitting on the dresser broke the silence. "I like your jacket."

I pulled my favourite jean jacket -with the buffalo hand-painted on the back- tighter around me. I was about to thank her when a door down the hall slammed. There were heavy footsteps and low shouts. My first thought was that the party goers had discovered the door behind the drapes. But when I heard a holy angel's name shouted in exuberance, I knew it was much, much worse. Shadowhunters.

I'd never actually met a Shadowhunter face to face, but I've seen them in combat and I've heard stories. I know that they are fierce, powerful, and dangerous creatures. Humans with angel blood that gives them their abilities. They don't seem to have a weakness except their arrogance. But I'm not sure if that gives us an upper hand when they are the law we abide to.

Because I'm a Young Blood, I never knew when times were dangerous and difficult in the shadow world. A time when there was no peace between shadowhunters and downworlders. When there needn't be any reason kill someone and the ruthless and merciless ruled.

When the most recent Accords were signed a few years ago it brought peace. There were still tensions but we managed.

There was a crash and tinkle of something shattering. I heard Malachi scream in agony. He's gotten in plenty of bar fights with dangerous downworlders and has his fair share of scars from them but I've never heard him cry out like that.

Everyone in the master bedroom stood frozen in silence. Shock and fear held us all in place. I forced myself to calm down and used the silence to my advantage. There is always an advantage to every situation, and I had a knack for finding it.

I listened to what was happening outside, for something to give me a clue as to what to do or expect. There was an order shouted for the shadowhunters to spread out and search each room. We were at the end of the hall so we would be last, but I didn't know how many of them there was or how long it would take.

I took a breath and crept to the door. With a wave of my hand on the lights instantly shut off plunging us into darkness. Mutters of confusion came from each room. I sprinted down the hall, my hands up on either side of me, closing the doors to every room as I passed. The satisfying sound of a click as they locked. There were shouts from inside the rooms as the knobs rattled but didn't not give.

The white sparks that flew from my hands as I did my magic provided my only source of illumination. When I came to the crumpled shadow at the end I fell to my knees. A few feet away was a broken pot with what I assumed the Yewaugh plant but it was hard to tell what anything was in the darkness. With a snap of my fingers a spark ignited and I held a flame in my hand.

"Malachi," I whispered, and brought my flame towards him. He was lying face down and there was a dark stain spreading on his back, soaking through his shirt. I touched his back ever so slightly, bringing my hand back warm, and sticky with blood, the metallic smell making me sick to my stomach.

There was something wrong, besides the fact that he was bleeding possibly to death. No there was something else.

Then I realized- His mark, his warlock mark was gone.

Each warlock had something to identify themselves as magical beings. Mine were wings. Malachi had flat disk-like spikes protruding from his back where each spine vertebrae would be, but they were gone now. Ripped out somehow. I didn't know what this would mean for him or his powers. I raked my hands through my hair in frustration. _How did I still know so god damn little?! _After all these years in the shadow world and I know nothing.

I forced myself to focus on the task at hand, I needed to stop the bleeding. Unwilling to close the wounds in case we could get his osteoderms back into place. I wove a cloth from my fingertips and tied it tightly around his abdomen, turning him over onto his back to tie it.

He coughed and sputtered then ever so quietly whispered my name. Reaching up to cup my cheek with his hand, I grabbed hold of his wrist.

"What did they do? Are you…? I trailed off unsure how to phrase it. It was so awkward and uncomfortable. Not the kind of dramatic moment I had expected to be in if I held someone dying in my arms.

He managed a weak laugh. "No death hasn't got me yet. I heal fast you know."

"Malachi." I said worriedly.

"But," he croaked looking up at me with wide eyes and a hint of a grin, "if I do go, a good-bye kiss would be nice."

"You're disgusting," I said dropping his arm.

Just then, one of the doors down the hall swung open and out came a shadowhunter swearing profoundly. Light spilled into the hall from what I could tell to be a rock in his hand. The shadowhunter boy whirled around, pulling out a glowing blade from his weapons belt, spotted us huddled on the ground.

Before he could move, I grabbed the little plant, creating a protective sphere around it as I stood, then tucked it into my jacket. Lifting my hand to the closest door, it exploded inward, bits of wood ripping and splintering from the invisible impact. I sprinted through, knowing the other boy was not far behind.

Thankfully this room was empty. I spun around, but seeing no other way out, went to the window. I touched my forefinger to the glass, shattering the pane so fine it was almost sand. Climbing into the sill, I sat crouched adjusting my footing when the shadowhunter came in.

We both froze, staring at each other for a moment. My heartbeat thundered in my chest. An icy wind blew in from the night, whipping my hair around my face. It was like everything stopped, time slowing to a crawl and we were frozen in that moment.

Time to go, a part of me nudged. That was all it took to break me away.

I let go of the window frame and fell back. Wind whistled in my ears as I free fell. Turning in the air the short three stories until I became upright, I was still knocked off my feet when I hit the ground. I heard a loud tear as I rolled. When the momentum slowed I stood up and inspected the damage. I was fine but there was a huge rip in the shoulder of my jacket. My favourite jean jacket!

"Fucking Nephelim!" I yelled up at the townhouse furiously. "Shit," I hissed, fingering the torn material but there was no time to mend the tear. I broke out into a run, turning down an alley. I didn't stop running as I created a portal in my hands and threw it at the side of concrete building. I didn't stop running as I jumped through. I didn't stop running because I already knew where I was going.


	2. Chapter 2

_Authors Note_

_Hi! This chapter is written by Wanderlust100 from the perspective of Fey. I hope you enjoy it._

_I'm going to try to put in these polyvore links again:_

Steam curled off the surface of the water. The condensation gathered in droplets on the glass when I set it by my window. I rummaged through my selection of tea on the top shelf, searching for my favourite oolong tea. As I reached for the box containing the tea my hand bumped a jar of tea leaves and it fell and shattered. With a sigh of frustration I waved my hand over it, reversing the impact and putting the jagged edges back together. The jar flew through the air, gently placing itself back on the shelf. I took a tea bag from the box and dipped it into the water.

My feet made a gentle noise on the hardwood floors as I padded barefoot through my lofty town house to the living room. Just as I settled myself on the couch I heard a brisk knock on my door. With a sigh I got up to answer the door, unsure of who it would be, as I wasn't expecting company. Before I even got to the door it swung open, revealing a tall boy with a mop of untamed honey coloured hair.

"Ever heard of locking your doors?" the boy called to me with a laugh, as he strode through the doorway. I smiled as I recognized my old friend Smith.

"I'm one of the most powerful warlocks in the northern hemisphere, if anyone tried to break in I'm sure I could keep them out a lot better than a lock can." I replied as I went to embrace the boy. He drew back and placed his hands on my shoulders.

"I've had an idea!" he declared.

"What is it?" I inquired, a smile quirking up the sides of my mouth.

He chuckled before replying. "It's a surprise," he grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the door. His large, calloused hand felt rough and warm against my small hand. He towered over me as he ducked slightly to fit through my door frame.

We walked in silence towards his car. He released my hand from his but quickly replaced it onto my waist, tugging me into his side. He opened the passenger side door for me before walking over to the driver's side. I admired his car as he started the engine, running my hand over the black leather interior. It was a simple 1970s Mustang, a rusty red colour that was obviously the original paint job. Although I had always wanted one of my own, I found it too much of a hassle. It was so much easier to simply portal to places.

"Like it? I just got the seats reupholstered. The old ones were coming apart at the seams." he asked, peering at me out of the corner of his eye as he drove down the deserted street.

I nodded before replying "I remember when these first came out. They were all the rage."

He laughed slightly, before glancing over at me. "Sometimes I forget the whole immortal thing. How old were you in 1970?"

"You 'forget' the whole immortal thing?" I asked with a chuckle. I picked at the frayed edges of the rips in my jeans, exposing my bare skin underneath. The slight blueish hue of my skin was especially noticeable against the dark wash of the jeans- so much so that I had to put on a glamour before heading out, making sure no mundanes noticed. I was one of the few warlocks to have more than one mark, as my light naturally coloured lilac hair flowed down to right above the bottom of my ribcage. Of course, I rarely concealed that when heading into the mundane world. Dyed hair seemed to be much more acceptable now than when I was a child. I hummed to myself for a minute before answering his second question, figuring out the math in my head.

"Forty-three" I replied. "I was born in the spring of 1927."

He whistled under his breath as he turned to me.

"Making you seventy-five this year." He said quietly. I only nodded in response. Birthdays rarely mattered when you were immortal. I had met warlocks all over the world who had stopped counting long ago, and as far as I knew they were hundreds of years old.

"Well, you don't look a day over twenty." He said with a smirk as he turned his eyes back to the road in front of us. The sky had darkened as the sun set completely, our only illumination came from the headlights that cast shadows on the gravel road in front of us.

"Where did you say we were going again?" I inquired as I leaned forward to look out the window, although it didn't offer me any clues.

"I didn't" he replied. "I suppose you'll just have to wait."

I let out a breath of frustration as I fell back in my seat. I crossed my arms over my chest and leaned my head back. I stared at the ceiling and listened to Smith's steady voice as he told me about news from his pack. His voice was low and soft, and so familiar, I found that it was harder to keep my eyes open in each passing moment.

"Fey, Fey wake up." I heard someone calling me. My eyes flew open I looked for the source of the sound.

"Come on Fey we're here." Smith said as he gently tugged me out of the car. I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes as I glanced around me, slightly confused. We seemed to be at a beach, and right in front of us I could see a bright light that hurt my eyes. A smile came to my lips as I realized where we were.

"West Point lighthouse" I mumbled under my breath. The salty ocean breeze washed over me, sending a slight chill down my spine, I tugged the leather jacket I was wearing, tighter around myself. I had been here numerous time, and it remained one of my favourite places in Seattle. It was a popular tourist attraction during the day, but at night the building became pretty much abandoned. It sat at the point of the Puget Sound, which looked across to Murden Cove. Smith knew how much I loved it here. It reminded me of my childhood home, which was a small lighthouse that sat on the rocky shore of Newfoundland.

He began walking towards the lighthouse as I stared out across the inlet.

"Coming?" he called to me, as I realized he had wandered much farther ahead. With a laugh I hurried toward him, happy to be back at one of my favourite places. The tall grass around the path came up to my waist, and it swayed slowly in the ocean breeze. As I approached Smith I heard something scuttling behind me. Just as I turned, I saw the shadow of something running by on my left. I stood still for a minute, wondering what it could be. Smith called to me again just as I heard something that sounded much like cackling and the grass began to move, as if someone was walking through it. All of a sudden a strong ocean breeze came up, causing the grass to sway and dance. With the wind whistling in my ears I couldn't hear anything else, and figured it must have just been my imagination and grogginess that had caused the image.

I hurried to catch up to Smith, and when I reached him he took my hand and led me towards the lighthouse.

"What took you so long?" he asked curiously.

"I thought I saw something in the grass, but I'm sure it was nothing." Still I couldn't shake the uneasy feeling I had.

"Well don't worry, I'll protect you" he said jokingly, as he pulled me close to his side. All of a sudden I was aware of how close we were, and how deserted this place was. Smith had been one of my closest friends for a few years now, and that's how I wanted it to stay, but I always felt as if he wanted something more from the relationship. I swallowed the rising lump in my throat, as he guided me towards the lighthouse, his hand never leaving my waist. I almost began regretting my decision of staying home for Smith to find me. Perhaps I could've gone somewhere with Psyche, or went to Scarlet's house, or been anywhere other than here with Smith. All the familiarity had left and it felt awkward now as we walked.

He pulled me up the stairs of the lighthouse, standing just outside it on a small porch. Looking down at my feet he turned to face me, taking both my hands in his.

"Fey-" he began. I took a sharp intake of breath as my mind raced. It wasn't that I disliked Smith, it's just that if my seventy-five years on earth had taught me anything, it was that people always leave. It was difficult falling in love with a mortal, watching them slowly waste away before your eyes, eventually dying and leaving you empty. Almost everyone I had ever loved died or abandoned me because they thought I was a freak. That's what always intrigued me about the ancient warlocks I had met, how they were able to deal with so much pain and loss. That is until I realized that they either surrounded themselves with other ancients, or lived in complete isolation.

"I have something I need to tell you." he continued. Would it be rude to portal away right now? I feel like that would be rude.

I suppose I'll never know what he was going to say, because just as he opened his mouth to speak a chorus of screams and cries sounded from behind us. I whirled around, instinctively putting my hands up as they began to glow with purple sparks. Towards us ran an army of tiny little people. As they began to get closer I realized what they were. _Knockers,_ I thought as they approached, hissing and spitting at us. They were ugly creatures, standing about three feet tall. They had long noses, pointed ears and viscous sharp teeth. Their feet seemed misshapen, as they all stood at funny angles on their toes. Short tails flicked behind them, topped with a small tuft of brown fur.

As they began to climb the steps to the lighthouse I threw out a barrier, stopping them in their tracks, some of them flying back as they ran into it. Still they kept coming, pounding and clawing at the invisible walls of the barriers. From beside me I heard a low snarl emit from Smith's throat. When I looked at him his skin had started rippling, and his teeth had formed into fangs. The change in him caused me to lose focus for a mere second, but that was enough for a couple of the knockers to break through. Just as they did Smith jumped forward, his full transformation taking place. The back of his shirt ripped open, revealing nothing but fur. When his feet touched the ground they had already turned into paws, and his hands followed suit. Smith was one of the few werewolves I know, and the transformation never ceased to amaze me.

Smith clawed one of the knockers, and blood streamed from the creature's stomach as it fell to the floor. He turned to face the other knockers that had broken through, and I focused my energy back into the barrier. There was so many of them, and the pressure from their relentless pounding was beginning to take its toll. I tightened my hands into fists, running an electric current through the barrier, causing most of the knockers to fly back, and many more began to retreat. Still there seemed to be an endless amount.

A high pitched howl sounded to my right, and I saw that one of the vile creatures had bite Smith, latching itself on to his neck. Another jumped on him, scraping its claws down his side as another howl rose from his throat. With a flick of my wrists I pushed out the barrier as far as I could. The remaining knockers were hit with the full force of it, and many got crushed in the process while the others went scurrying back into the grass. There were now four knockers attaching themselves to Smith. With the rest of my energy I sent three of them flying, and Smith managed to shake the last one off. Just as the little Knocker began to run towards the bush I caught him by the throat, pulling him up to my eye level.

"Who sent you?" I demanded. The little creature trembled in fear as I gripped his neck hard, awaiting an answer.

"We came here ourselves, you are trespassing on our land!" he replied in a shaky voice. The knockers talked in odd languages, and his English was hard to understand. It sounded as if his voice was bubbling up from his stomach instead of his throat.

"Your land?" I replied with a scoff. "And who exactly gave you the right to this land? What have you done to the mundanes here?"

He hesitated before he replied, and I shook his neck forcefully.

"We do not hurt the mundanes, it is only other Downworlders like you and your friend who we attack. Our old territory was taken by the Clave, so they sent us here." I could hear the bitterness in his voice as he spoke of the Clave, there were many tensions between us and them. I began to laugh, and the creature seemed shocked by my reaction.

"You were sent here by those filthy Nephilim?" I asked, still laughing. The creature only nodded in response.

"So what anger do you have against us? We all have a common enemy here." I said.

"We are worried someone may take our land again. This land is all we have left now that we aren't allowed back to our old territory" it said, sounding unsure of his answer.

"And what's to stop you from going back?"

"The Clave." With that answer I began laughing again. I placed the creature back down on the floor before replying.

"Screw the Clave! If you want your old land back, then take it back. Just stay away from us next time." With that the creature nodded, before quickly scampering back into the grass.

From behind me I heard a low grunt, and turned to see Smith sitting there in his human form, wearing nothing but a torn pair of jeans. Two long gashes ran down his side, and he had an ugly looking bite on his leg. I hurried over to his side as I looked over his wounds. I reached out to his shoulder, asking permission to heal him, but he shrugged me off. I bit my lip.

"Are you okay?" I asked worriedly.

He smiled weakly before nodding.

"We should get going." he said, as he slowly began to get up.

"Do you think you will be able to get home by yourself? I actually need to be somewhere." I said. He gave me a longing glance before nodding, as he turned to head to his car.

"Goodnight Fey" he called to me, not looking back.

"Goodnight" I called out softly to him. I watched him walk away until he was out of sight. I looked down at my hands, as a small orb of glowing light began to form in them. Without a second thought I built a portal on the wall of the lighthouse in front of me. Imagining my destination, I stepped through without a second glance.


	3. Chapter 3

3

Scarlet

Blood. The bane of my existence, but also my savior. I can hear it coursing through the veins of every man, woman, and child, their beating hearts calling to me like voices from the past. The compelling desire to consume this liquid gold eats away at whatever humanity I have left. It takes inhuman strength to withhold myself from grabbing a mundane and drinking their blood. Drinking away their life. But that is the condition for superhuman strength, speed, and grace. It is what keeps my youth eternal, what fills the void in my body. Taking life from a living being is an easy compromise for immortality. Isn't it?

The sound of my black Victorian lace up boots hitting the old dark wood floors filled the familiar silence. The candles flickered as I walked by with purpose. Passing door, after door, after door, I checked to see if I had everything I needed.

_Coat, check. Gloves, check. Hunger? Definitely check_, I thought to myself.

Reaching the end of the stretched out hallway, I turned into the room to my left. This room, (to make use of the extensive amount of rooms in the house) was my Cat Room, where I kept all of the supplies and such needed to care for my beloved kittens. Althea and Pandora were cozy in their beds, presumably sleeping, as it was late. Cleopatra and Athena were playing on the cat jungle gym I got for them, and Mayor Mittens was no where to be found. Only Bartholomew acknowledged my existence, coming up to me and running his grey and black striped tail along my leg.

Bending down to pet him, I whispered, "I'm going out now, Bartholomew. I'll be back soon."

Giving him one last pat, I stood up and walked out of the Cat Room. Using my super vampire speed skills, I sprinted down the hallway, down two flights of stairs, and into the parlor. The fireplace was on, and the sweet scent of orange pekoe tea filled my room. The smell was coming from the kitchen, but because of my heightened senses, I could smell it as if it were right under my nose.

"Gwen? Pascal? Are you in the kitchen" I called out into the house. Since I grew up in Transylvania, I still had a faint Romanian accent, pronouncing the 't' in 'the' as a 'd'. The accent had faded dramatically over all one hundred and ninety-seven years.

"Yes, Master, we are in the kitchen. Can I fetch you a glass of Sauvignon Blanc?", answered Pascal, his deep voice rumbling throughout the lower level of the mansion.

"Pascal, you know what I said about calling me Master. 'Scarlet' is fine. And no, thank you. I am going out now. I'll be back very soon.", I reverberated. "Tell Gwen when you see her, please."

Pascal stumbled out of the kitchen, hurrying towards me. The look of familiar pain on his face made me concerned, even though I knew perfectly what it was about.

"I am so sorry, Mast- I mean, Scarlet. I never meant to apprehend your orders. The method of punishment is yours for the choosing."

"Pascal! What is going on with you?", I asked, frustrated at his words. "You know perfectly well that when we are alone, you may treat me like a dear friend. There will be no punishing. Are we understood?"

"Yes, Scarlet. I will go back to the kitchen to tell Gwen that you are leaving." Pascal nodded purposefully and walked back into the kitchen.

"Mundanes" I muttered under my breath, shaking my head. I had two human subjugates, Pascal and Gwendolyn, who were very dear to my heart. Although they sometimes drove me crazy, I could never imagine not having them around.

Turning towards the entrance, I took a deep breath. Hunting was where I found my 'zen', my high point of focus, and I needed to concentrate and gather my thoughts. Even though I had subjugates who willingly fed me blood whenever I needed it, hunting always calmed me and silenced my problems. Being a living corpse, I didn't actually need to breath and take in oxygen. It helped to breath when tracking, and, personally, it helped to calm me down. Taking another deep breath in, I started towards the women's coat room. In this mansion, men and women had different rooms to put away their outside wear and a place to freshen up. Being a house that was built in 1801, four years before I was born, it was standard practice to have separate coat rooms for men and women.

Quickly, as I was finding it hard to think about anything other than blood, I grabbed my black and grey striped parasol and checked to see if my aristocratic red jacket was all buttoned up. I looked in the mirror built into the vanity table on the left wall, and saw that my hair was coming out of its usual messy bun. I snatched up the lace headband that was sitting on the vanity and put it on my head. _There, _I thought. _Much better. _

Before striding out of the mansion, I held the parasol over my head, not wanting any risk of sunlight touching my pale skin. It was pure agony when the bright rays came into contact with me; I didn't want that to happen, especially as I was going out on a hunt. Stepping out into the open air, I looked around. It was extremely foggy, but that was perfect. Fog always worked to my advantage. Easier to hide in.

It was a bit of a walk to the nearest bar, but nothing I couldn't handle. I didn't run, because I didn't want to draw attention to myself. As I arrived, I allowed myself to take a breath. The scent of alcohol mixed with human blood and sweat was intoxicating and made my head whirl. I was outside still, heading towards the back of the bar to the alleyway where all of the drunks who were too drunk to be inside were. Every one of them was either leaning against the building or laying on the ground, passed out. The scene took me back one hundred and eighty-one years to when I met Alexandru.

Understated, Alexandru was the love of my life. We had met in Transylvania, while I was in an alleyway, much like this one, and he was passed out on the ground, much like the men here. I took him back to my house and cared for him, tending to his wounds and nursing him back to good health. My father had died two months back, falling off one of our balconies while he was drunk and killing himself; I didn't want this boy to go the same way. One year later, we married. It was bliss.

The dream ended in 1824, when Dru's best friend, Vlad, came over one night. Alone with him, he made advances and when I denied him, he attacked me and bit my neck. No one had known Vlad had been a vampire, and he had just spoiled his biggest secret. Just for me, and he couldn't leave me in possession of this kind of knowledge. Later, he forced me to drink his blood, and once I had enough in my system, snapped my neck. He buried me in the graveyard one mile from my mansion. Two days later, I dug my way out of the ground. I was dazed and confused, and didn't know what was going on. All I knew was that I hated Vlad for what he did to me. He was going to pay.

That night, I told Dru what I had become. As the loving and caring man that he was, he accepted me, and told me he loved me even though I had become this _thing_. Later that week, I went after Vlad and staked him in the heart. For a short while, our problems were gone. One year later, I turned Dru. He wanted it, and I was selfish enough to do it, because I wanted to be with him forever. Forever wasn't long enough. In the midst of World War II, an anti-Downworlder clan convinced that all Downworlders were the cause of the War went after Dru and I. Dru's forever was taken away from him, while mine was still intact.

My flashback ended when a large man hobbled over to me and put his hand on my shoulder. I looked down at his greasy hand and shrugged it off.

"This is an expensive coat"_, _I said.

Looking back at his face, I stared into his eyes. Over the years, I had mastered the art of _encanto, _the art of tricking minds into thinking what I wanted them to think. I had become such an expert that even some shadowhunters fell prey to my stare. Looking into his eyes, I imagined that I was planting a seed in his brain, a seed that made this man come with me with no hassle. The man started shuffling towards me and making a funny motion with his arm that seemed to say, _You lead the way, miss. _And indeed, I did.

As soon as I found a quiet spot around the back where there were no people, I stared into his mind again, making him willingly cock his head to the side, unveiling his dirty neck. Rubbing away some of the dirt, I took another deep breath, taking in the stench of this man, the blood rushing through his veins, and the alcohol he had been consuming. This breath wasn't for the smell, but more to let myself concentrate; it would be a huge inconvenience to bury a body tonight. And also illegal. With blood so close to me, my fangs came out of hiding. Turing my head to the side to match the man's, I looked at his face, not intending to mind-trick him. And he looked back. I mean, he _really_ _looked. _Before, his eyes were glazed over, seemingly in another place. This time, he was 'awake', and could see what was going on. His eyes widened at the sight of my face, seemingly frightened. Understandable. My eyes were the colour of deep dark scarlet and I had two fangs sticking out of my mouth.

With a sigh, not wanting to prolong this child's play any longer, I positioned my mouth over his neck. My fangs grazed his skin, finding the perfect place to sink their toothy blades into. The man had started to speak, but I cut him off by sticking my fangs into his neck. A gargled scream emitted from his mouth, but soon the screams turned into moans. He was enjoying himself. And so was I.

God, I was so hungry; I couldn't make myself stop drinking. Looking over to his face, I could see it was turning as pale as my skin. _Time to stop, Scarlet, _I warned myself. _This could get ugly really fast. _I pulled away reluctantly, wanting more. Breathing heavily, the man turned his head to face mine. He had a scary smile on his lips.

"You know, Scarlet_, _if you kill me, the Clave will certainly come after you."

I froze. My eyes narrowed as I looked into his eyes, anger seething from my pores. "How do you know about the Clave? _How do you know my name?_"

"Didn't you know? Miss Garcia, you're famous!", chuckled the man, still grinning. "Anyone who's anyone knows about the great Scarlet Garcia!" His tone was mocking, but his face was not showing any emotion. Except that sly grin he was wearing.

"You didn't answer my question, _mundane_.", I spit at him, with a heavy Romanian accent. "How do you know about the Clave?"

The man shrugged. "I'm a hand for hire. But, why should I tell you everything? You're going to kill me either way."

"Answer me, or I will hunt down every last person you love or care about and make them pay for your mistakes.", I said through gritted teeth. "If you know me so well, you know that this is not an empty threat. You also know that I have no problem snapping your neck like a twig and drinking all of your blood."

The man chuckled, shaking his head and erasing the unnerving smile from his mouth. "Poor, poor Scarlet. For once in her life, she doesn't get what she wants." He paused. "No, I know what you're thinking, and you have it _all _wrong. I don't work for the Clave." The paused again. "I pity you. I pity all of your kind. There is no room for you in this world. You are creatures from Hell. Go back to where you came from!"

My vision flashed red and my mind became drenched in rage. Unable to resist, I took the man's head in my hands, and in one swift movement, broke his neck. I killed the man without batting an eye. Then I leaned back and dove my mouth to his neck, landing dead on the previous puncture marks. Drinking all the blood left in him, I thought about where to hide the body. _Silly Scarlet, _I thought. _No need to hide the body when you can burn it. _

The man had so much alcohol in his system that burning him was effortless. I waited until the fire died down and there was no evidence left before leaving the scene. Realizing that I had dropped my parasol in the madness, I retrieved it and started home. My hunger was satisfied and I wanted nothing more then to go home and sit by the fireplace, drink my wine, and pet my cats. Over the years, I had trained my body not to reject mundane wines, as I do love it very much. Mundane food, on the other hand, makes me vomit and regurgitate (sometimes blood as well as the food, but not always).

Once my anger died down, I had enough sense to think about what I had just done. _Killing a mundane is against the law, Scarlet, _I thought to myself. _If the Clave finds out, your dead. _I chuckled at myself. I'm already a walking corpse.

Answering to myself under my breath, I said, "The Clave won't find out. I burned the body and disposed of the ashes. That retched man didn't even work for the Clave; he was just a mundane with the Sight, presumably. There is no way the Clave will come after me."

Feeling better but still worried, I ran home, taking the time equivalent to a mundane walking one short block. Coming up to my door, I checked the decrepit mailbox, worn from years of use. Nothing, as usual. No one had sent me a letter for years. Shaking my head, I let myself into the house, locking the door behind me. I walked into the women's coat room, shedding my jacket and putting my parasol away. My grey and black flower-patterned lace dress flowed around my body, thankful to finally breath.

Strutting out of the coat room, I called out, "Pascal or Gwen, if one of you is in the kitchen, do you mind getting me a glass of Sauvignon Blanc? I'll be in the parlor when it's ready."

I felt something rub against my leg. Looking down, I saw Mayor Mittens, trying to scratch his body on my calf.

"There you are! I was worried about you. Come sit with me.", I said to Mittens, in my 'cat voice' (the voice I only used with my cats). I picked up the fat ball of fur and carried him to an ornate armchair in front of the fire. The name 'Mayor Mittens' came from this cat being black with white paws, a classy example of a lazy being.

I collapsed on the armchair and let out a sigh, thinking about what to do for the rest of the night. Looking over at the compilation of musical instruments to my left, I decided I would start composing another song, maybe on the harp. Over the years, I had taken lessons on various instruments, including the piano, violin, cello, harp, guitar, and most recently, the drums. Music was one of the only constant variables in my life, so it was important to me that I have it around.

"Here's your wine, Scarlet.", said Gwen, handing me the fancy wine glass.

"Thank you, Gwen.', I replied, smiling. Suddenly remembering the messy litter boxes in the Cat Room, I added, "Oh, do you mind getting Pascal to help you clean the litter boxes upstairs? They are getting quite filthy."

Gwen nodded and started to climb upstairs to grab Pascal and get to work, her long golden locks bouncing and flowing down her back. Suddenly, the sound of the mansion's grand door knocker being used filled the room. Gwen hurried back down the stairs and briskly walked to answer it. I leaned my head back against the burgundy armchair and sighed again, not wanting to host any visitors at the moment.

"Gwen, can you tell whoever is at the door to come back at a more convenient hour?", I called.

"Hello, Scarlet.", Fey walked in, smirking. Obviously she did not want to respect my demand. Walking into the parlor, she sat down in the chair across from mine and said, 'You don't mind me sitting here, do you?"


	4. Chapter 4

As I stepped through the portal, the first thing I noticed was the temperature change. The goose bumps that had freckled my arms from the cold night air melted away with the heat. It was a comfortable warmth with a kind a familiarity that I welcomed. Seeping through the chill, it wrapped around me like a blanket.

I had stepped into a dark room, lit only by a fire and a few candles scattered around. Underfoot was a large Persian run with intricate patterns and swirls, and surrounding me was old fashioned furniture; a floral armchair, an oak china cabinet, and a grand chandelier hanging from the ceiling.

"I was wondering when you would get here," somebody said.

I glanced around the parlour and found Fey lounging on a sofa, she grinned up at me and I smiled back faintly.

"Psyche, the polite thing to do would be to arrive outside, and knock," Scarlet scolded in her light singsong voice. She sat in a large chair across from Fey, with one of her many cats in her lap.

I rolled my eyes at Scarlet's disapproval. She had been telling me that for years but I still hadn't listened and it had become more a habit for her to remind me more than anything else. Sinking to the ground, I crossed my legs beside the fire. Then shrugging off my jacket, I arched my back and unfolded my wings. It wasn't exactly comfortable keeping them tucked up under my jacket constantly, so I let them stretch out, every chance I got. They glimmered in the fire light, in the corner of my eye. My wings were white and gold and translucent, they shimmered like the moon on water. I couldn't fly with them or anything though. Which was lame.

"So," I said, glancing at my two friends, "what have I missed?"

"Nothing yet, Fey just got here. We were just having tea." Scarlet said.

"Actually only I'm having tea." Fey corrected. Scarlet didn't drink anything (or eat for that matter) other than blood, and the occasional red wine. Being a vampire had its downsides, I thought. Imagine not being able to eat at Ginger's Thai Palace ever again. I found the thought very disturbing.

Scarlet brushed past the comment. "Would you like some tea?" she asked me, her face glowing in the firelight, making her red eyes seem intensely bright.

"Actually, I think I'd like a scotch," I replied. Fey laughed, and Scarlet's eyes widened. I wished I was kidding. Tonight's events were worthy of a drink, I thought, but there was no way Scarlet would let me. She still saw me as only a Young Blood.

"So you'll have tea I guess. Pascal," she called over her shoulder.

"It's okay, I got it," I said. I held out my hand and a mug appeared full of steaming green tea.

"No," Scarlet sighed, as Pascal, one of her human subjugates came in holding a teapot and cups on a serving tray. "Never mind, Psyche has managed on her own." Pascal nodded and left without a word.

I watched him go, clutching my mug close to my chest. I found human subjugates so strange. There something very unsettling about the way they looked at Scarlet. Like she was some sort of god. For as long as I've known her, Scarlet had the same two; Pascal and Gwendolyn. And for as long as I remember, they would come and go only to serve her. I haven't had a conversation with either of them in my six years of friendship with Scarlet.

I took a sip of my tea, absently and startled into acute awareness when I burnt my tongue. That's when I heard Fey, who had apparently trying to win my attention for a while now. Scowling from my tongue I mumbled an apology.

"I asked you what you had been doing tonight Psyche," she sat up now expectantly waiting for an answer.

"Oh, I was at Malachi's."

"Ugh," Scarlet exclaimed dramatically displaying her disapproval. "I still don't know why you hang out with that dirt-bag."

"What?" I said only half defensively, "he's not that bad. And he throws pretty sweet parties."

They both just looked at me with blank faces, their mouths set in straight lines.

"Admit it, he totally does."

"We wouldn't know Psyche, we've never gone." Fey's eyebrows were raised almost as if she was questioning me. Her tone was leaning towards condescending I noticed with a huff. Although she was right. My friends were very well known, refined Downworders. Unlike me they didn't have time or patience for the rogue and unruly.

"Well then what did you seniors do tonight?" I said.

"If you must know, I was with Smith," Fey said, I could see her blushing even in the darkness. Smith was the head of the downtown pack, one of the youngest ever too I might add. He's had a crush on Fey ever since she healed his kid sister from a demon attack a few years ago. They've been friends but he still hasn't been able to win her- poor guy.

"It was weird though," Fey pushed on, noticing me and Scarlet exchanging looks. "We went down to West Point and were attacked by some Knockers. Saying we were trespassing on their land."

"Hmmm. As far as I know, Knockers hate mundane's presence, so what they would be doing at such a popular look out…" Scarlet wondered aloud, drumming her fingers on the arm of the chair.

"They told me the Clave had relocated them," Fey answered.

"Hey, speaking of Shadowhunters," I picked up my jacket of the carpet beside me and held it up displaying the long rip in the shoulder. "Look what they did to my jacket!"

"They ripped you're jacket?" Fey looked confused and I sighed in exasperation.

"No, it got ripped when I jumped out the window."

"Psyche! Why would you do something like that?" Scarlet sat up straight causing her cat to jump off her lap and scurry out of sight.

"To escape the Shadowhunters! So I guess they indirectly ripped my jacket, but still."

"But why would they be at Malachi's party?"

"I have no fucking idea. I was upstairs when like five of them came up and attacked Malachi who was in the hall. I barely escaped while the others did absolutely nothing- stupid gits." I muttered the last part with a specific Mr. Jules Alabaster in my mind.

"What a busy night for the Clave it appears to be," Scarlet spoke delicately. "I had a run in with a Mundie who threatened me by the Clave."

"…And?" Fey asked.

"That's all." I looked at my friend with doubt as did Fey, but we didn't press on. If she says so I guess.

We all sat there in silence for a few moments, pondering the information we had just acquired. I didn't know that much about the Clave, but I knew plenty about the Accords- well the part that affected me. But I knew that it's illegal to perform search and seizure without reason and most definitely illegal to take a warlock's mark.

What were the Shadowhunters up to? They more than anyone should know the laws, considering they created them.

I looked up and noticed the fire had burned low in the hearth making the dark room darker. Half of Fey's face was masked in shadow, the high points in her face illuminated in the light. She looked so fairy like in the dim light when she let her glamour fade. Her blue skin was a periwinkle that almost glimmered. She glanced up and noticed me watching her, meeting my gaze with a smile.

"Can I help you?" she teased.

I wrinkled my nose and wiggled my fingers at her, sending a wind that ruffled her hair. She brushed her hair out of her face and looked at me with a devilish glint in her eye. Raising her hand, palm facing me, the fire behind me roared to life, a fierce blaze sending sparks flying out onto my bare skin.

"Christ Fey!" I shrieked, patting my arms to get rid of the embers. She laughed as I scowled at her.

"Really," Scarlet said, inspecting a perfectly manicured nail, "must you two act so juvenile?"

Hey, I thought, I am a Young Blood after all. Even though in fact I must be close to thirty by now. Reaching up to an armchair beside me, I plucked one of the detailed hand stitched throw pillows and flung it at Scarlet. It smacked her on the top of her forehead and rolled off her head to the ground. She looked up at me and Fey, unamused. Her hair had come loose from her bun and hung around her face in dark strands, half an up do and half down.

I glanced at Fey who had clamped her hand over her mouth, trying to contain her giggles. I turned back to Scarlet, trying to look as innocent as possible, I shrugged and nodded towards Fey.

Fey attempted a glare at me but was smiling too much to make it very convincing. She snorted a little when she bit her lip, holding in her laughter.

"God, don't shit yourself Fey." Scarlet commented.

She completely lost it at that. Her eyes glimmered and crinkled at the sides lighting up her face. She crossed her arms over her abdomen, clutching her sides. "You. Look. Like. Mayor. Mittens." She gasped in between fits of laughter. Scarlet squealed and joined in. I laughed at the complete ridiculousness of my friends, I laughed until I had tears in my eyes.

It was nice to forget the troubles of tonight and just enjoy myself in the comfort of my friends. Even if it was short lived, as a there was a noise at the door and somebody cleared there throat. I looked up wiping at my eyes to see Gwendolyn standing there awkward and formal as ever.

"I have prepared Master Fey and Master Psyche's rooms as I assume they are spending the night." She spoke in monotone looking only at Scarlet.

"Yes, thank you Gwen," Scarlet addressed the girl, furiously patting down her wild hair. Scarlet lived in a mansion built in the early 1800s and had more than enough rooms so she kept two of them forever vacant for Fey and I. I often stayed the night preferring it over the crap apartment I actually live in, full of disgusting mundanes and never not smelling of cigarettes.

Scarlet yawned gracefully – is there anything she doesn't do with incredible grace- and leaned back in her chair. "I personally think that bedtime sounds like a lovely idea." She crossed her arms over her chest and closed her eyes, mock sleeping. Even though she never actually does sleep, being a vampire and all. But I got the hint.

"Yeah sure, you coming?" Fey asked me, standing up. She crossed over to the grand staircase and turned back, waiting for me.

I rose and grabbed my jacket off the floor. More and more appealing did the thought of a nice bed and a peaceful sleep become. I doubted it would be peaceful but one can hope. I joined Fey and nudged her arm with mine. Then I ascended the stairs, with Fey by my side and Scarlet right behind.


	5. Chapter 5

Authors note

Hey we love you guys seriously. Sorry it has been so long since we've posted but we all just started high school and life in crazy busy. But we promise to post more. Please tell your book loving friends about this fanfic if you're enjoying it. And as always, favourite, follow and review!

(Written by Wanderlust100 from Fey's perspective)

I couldn't sleep. No matter how long I lay there for, sleep just wouldn't come. On the floor below me I could hear Gwendolyn and Pascal slowly cleaning the kitchen and living room. Every now and then I could hear the slight murmur of their voices, but never quite caught the words they were saying. The subjugates always put me on edge. I knew that Scarlet loved them deeply, but they were strangely emotionless. They thought of nothing but appeasing her.

Lying there, I tried my best to clear my mind. Still I couldn't stop going over tonight's events. Stupidly I had left my phone at home, seeing no need for it, but I kept wondering if Smith might have called me. _You have bigger things to worry about then him._ I thought, but still my mind kept wandering over to him. Instead I focused on the Clave, and all the trouble we had with them tonight. I didn't understand it, why evict the knockers? And why send the shadowhunters to Malachi's?

The thought of Malachi made me uneasy. I had never met the man face to face but rumours about him ran ramped in the shadow world. Psyche had always seemed drawn to people like him, probably because she was like him. She was a rogue Downworlder, always getting into trouble, but she was somewhat of a little sister to me.

_What would I do if something happened to her? _I thought anxiously. I had known Psyche for six years, and she was one of the few people I trusted other than Scarlet. She was extremely powerful, but she was young. She was barely eighteen when we found her, and knew little of the shadow world, yet already she had managed to make many powerful enemies.

With a sigh I pushed the sheets off of myself and sat up. I studied the room around me, which had become familiar over the years. Scarlet often let Psyche and I stay in the huge house. My room was simpler than Psyche's, seeing as I spent more time at my own house then here. The walls were a warm beige colour that contrasted the heavy burgundy drapes, that made sure no sun got through. The velvety sheets were burgundy as well, embroidered with swirling golden patterns. Although the room was large, there wasn't much in it. Other than the large four poster bed, there was a wardrobe, vanity, and night stand. All of them were made of dark oak panelling that matched the floor.

I shivered as I got out of the bed, my bare feet hitting the freezing cold floor. The door slowly creaked open and I shut it lightly behind me as I began creeping down the hallway, not wanting to wake anyone. I ascended to the floor above my room, which was made up of Scarlet's black room where she did her photography, and a large greenhouse. Although Scarlet could rarely enter the greenhouse during the day due to the suns rays which pierced through the glass roof, the subjugates took amazing care of it. It was overflowing with lush trees, bushes, herbs and flowers. Many of which no mundane had ever laid their eyes upon. The greenhouse was even more beautiful at night, as the moonlight reflected off the silvery petals of flowers and small pools of water.

Again I tried to clear my mind as I walked through the greenhouse, making sure to step over the vines and flowers in my path. I walked towards the largest pool of water in the greenhouse, which was a peaceful little pond that took up the back left corner. The water was crystal clear and you could always see the small koi fish that darted around just under the waters surface. As I approached the pond I noticed that there was already a figure there, dangling their feet in the water. By the slight frame and pale blond hair, I could already tell who it was.

"Psyche?" I called out to her. She didn't acknowledge me, but instead continued gazing into the pond, her eyes darting back and forth as she followed the movement of the fish.

"Hey Fey" she said softly, as I took a seat next to her. I dipped my feet into the water, which was still warm after being heated all day by the sun's rays.

"Couldn't sleep either?" I asked. She seemed preoccupied, staring intently at the water as two koi fish raced from one side of the water to the other. They moved with such speed that they created ripples in the water that tickled my toes.

"Not exactly. Malachi had given me something at his party and I had to take care of."

"And what exactly did he give you?" I questioned. Psyche seemed to hesitate before she answered, as if wondering if she should tell me or not.

"A yewaugh plant." she finally replied. Her answer threw me off slightly. _What on earth would she need with a yewaugh plant?_ I thought, but I decided it would be best not to question her. Despite out close friendship, many things were better left unknown about our personal lives.

I could feel her gazing at me out of the corner of her eye as I nodded, and I could tell that she was anxiously awaiting my next question. She seemed just as surprised as me when one did not come. Quickly she changed the subject.

"Sooo... have anything else to tell me about what happened with Smith tonight?" I felt my cheeks glow to a rosy colour, and I leaned forward slightly so that my hair would hide my face.

"Um, no not really." I replied meakly. Psyche chuckled beside me.

"C'mon Fey, I know something happened. You've been acting weird all night." She said. I squeezed my eyes shut, praying that my cheeks would cool down.

"Um, he did kinda start to ask me something before the Knockers came." I said, annoyed at how shaky my voice sounded."You know it was just kinda the whole 'we've been friends for a long time, and I like you. I mean _really _like you' kinda thing."

At that Psyche began to laugh, and I could feel my embarrassment growing. As her laughter subsided she flung her arm over my shoulder.

"Don't worry about it Fey, I'm not laughing at _you_. I just honestly thought that Smith might be a little more original than that." She pushed herself up and began walking off, her wet feet leaving sloppy footprints on the dry gravely path.

"Where are you going?" I called out to her.

"On a walk. Are you coming?" she called back, not turning around. I hurried to catch up with her as she wandered aimlessly around the perimeter of the greenhouse.

"Why do you think they are doing this?" I scrunched my brow in confusion at her question. "The Clave, I mean. The Knockers, the Shadowhunters, what are they doing?"

I pondered her question for a minute, but I had no idea. What were they doing?

"Maybe we should go investigate." I replied jokingly. Psyche stopped in her tracks and put out her arm, stopping me as well.

"That's actually a great idea!" she exclaimed, her eyes wide with excitement, like how they got when she had an idea.

"Wait, what? I was only joking. It's not like we can actually go to Idris and spy on the Clave."

"We don't have to. All we have to do is find the Shadowhunters who came to Malachi's party, they would have some answers. It will be fun, like a secret mission."

"That sounds dangerous." I replied skeptically.

"What's the point of life without any danger? Besides Fey, we're powerful immortal downworlders, how much trouble could a couple of Shadowhunters give us?"


End file.
